


The Girl and Her Devil

by rubylily



Category: Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magika | Puella Magi Madoka Magica
Genre: Bondage, Crying During Sex, Dream Sex, F/F, Post-Rebellion Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-21 08:52:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14281368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubylily/pseuds/rubylily
Summary: Every night Madoka dreams of the devil.





	The Girl and Her Devil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [13lackbirds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/13lackbirds/gifts).



Every night the dream was the same, but Madoka had grown fond of these dreams.

She dreamed yet again, as she often did ever since her family had returned to Japan. She was in a glass cage surrounded by white flowers and fields of grass that stretched as far as the eye could see, with only a single bed in the center. A starry sky hung above, and she had a memory of shattering the sky to reveal a desolate world where someone truly precious had been waiting for her.

That feeling of having once been something more still lingered, as if she longed to bring hope to those on the brink of despair.

She sat on the edge of the bed and tugged at the hem of her skirt. But this uniform felt familiar too, as if she had already worn it for longer than just a few months. She always found herself wearing her school uniform in these dreams, as well as the red ribbons in her hair.

They were very same ribbons Akemi Homura had given her the day she had transferred to Mitakihara Middle School. When she had returned home that day, her mother had called the ribbons flashy and cute, saying they were just perfect for her, and that had awakened a strange sense of familiarity in Madoka's heart.

She touched one of the ribbons, and her chest tightened. Homura was a little strange, but kind too, and in those violet eyes she carried a nostalgic sorrow that Madoka almost understood but couldn't, and most of all she wanted to ease that sorrow.

And in these dreams, she hoped that she could ease Homura's pain, if only until they woke again.

Tattered feathers fell to the ground, and Homura appeared before Madoka. She wore a billowing purple dress that left her shoulders bare, and broken wings spread from her back. Her dark stockings reached her thighs, and she held a gloved, teasing finger to her lips. In her hair she wore a large red ribbon, one much the same color as Madoka's own ribbons, and her eyes were more a shade of red than her usual violet. She was Homura but not quite, a being more inhuman, like a devil, but Madoka was never frightened of her. Truth be told, this devil was the most beautiful being Madoka had ever seen.

"Welcome back," Homura said, and her voice was deeper and fuller. In the waking world, Madoka barely remembered these dreams, only remembering a sense of longing for Homura, but Homura acted no differently in class. But in these dreams, this devil form of Homura never forgot.

Madoka ached to rush toward Homura, to simply jump into those gloved arms, but she remained still as Homura carefully approached her, those broken wing fluttering in the wind. Even now they took Madoka's breath away, and someday she hoped to regain her own wings so that she and Homura could fly free from this world together.

But until then, she longed to give her heart to the devil.

"Homura-chan," Madoka said finally, raising her hands to touch Homura's face. Homura's eyes really were a deep red, like crystalized blood, and beneath them the dark circles had grown deeper. "I missed you."

A low chuckle slipped from Homura's lips, and she laid her hand on Madoka's hair, gloved fingers brushing against ribbons. "Red ribbons again, I see."

Madoka's heart skipped a beat, and Homura's warmth was almost too much to bear. "Of course. They're the ones you gave me."

"So you still don't remember," Homura muttered, but then that dark smile returned to her lips. "But they really do look better on you." She caressed Madoka's cheek, slowly and tenderly, and then pulled her closer for a kiss.

She pinned Madoka to the bed, kissing her over and over, and she worked to remove Madoka's shirt and bra, and Madoka didn't resist at all. Every night she bared herself to Homura like this, and little by little she saw more of Homura's very being. Homura's hands were surprisingly gentle, but also certain, rarely hesitating.

"You're so beautiful," Homura whispered, her breath warm against Madoka's skin. "My darling Madoka… My beloved goddess…"

Goddess. Madoka's heart hurt at the sound of that word, and for a moment she saw a flash of gold, like her own eyes had changed. She blinked, and she put her arms around Homura's back, running her fingers through that long hair while being mindful of the sharp wings, and Homura's body pinning hers shivered in delight.

"Ah…" Homura moaned, and she lifted herself so that she grip Madoka's wrists and pin them to the bed as she straddled Madoka's hips with her knees. "You're always so kind to wear these ribbons for me." As her lips - her warm, moist lips, Madoka couldn't help but notice - curled into a smirk, she carefully undid the ribbons in Madoka's hair and then used them to tie Madoka's wrists to the posts of the bed.

Madoka flexed her fingers; the ribbons were soft against her skin, and felt rather sturdy. "They won't break?"

"Not as long as you only think of me," Homura murmured, and she took the red ribbon Madoka wore as part of her school uniform and put it around Madoka's throat, tying it in a bow. "There, perfect."

"H-Homura-chan…" Madoka tried to say, choking. The ribbon wasn't tight enough to cut off her air completely, but each breath she took felt like a miracle, or a gift from the devil herself. In these dreams, was she selling her soul to the devil? But she didn't care, as long as she could make Homura smile.

"Oh, Madoka," Homura purred as she ran her hands down Madoka's body, and she pressed her face against the juncture of Madoka's neck and shoulder and bit the skin, and Madoka let out a strangled gasp. She always hoped Homura would leave some kind of mark on her skin, but each time she awoke from these dreams, her skin held nothing.

Homura lifted herself to look down upon Madoka, and her beauty filled Madoka's gaze. Her dressed hugged her every curve, and the low neckline revealed subtle cleavage. Her wings spread wide, and while Madoka longed to touch them, she longed more strongly for Homura's very touch.

As if reading her mind, Homura cupped Madoka's breasts with her gloved hands, and as she gave the flesh a hard squeeze, Madoka gasped sharply. "You're so very adorable, Madoka," she said as she ran her fingers over Madoka's hardening nipples. Madoka squirmed beneath Homura, and Homura chuckled as she pinched Madoka's nipples, and her grip only tightened when Madoka cried out. Her body jolted and arched against Homura's, and she wanted more.

While Homura teased and played with Madoka's breasts, her fingers biting into the soft flesh, she lowered her wings, engulfing the both of them. Feathers brushed against Madoka's skin, caressing her face and bound wrists, and while they were almost sharp enough to draw blood, Madoka loved them. They were inhuman and frightening, but still a part of Homura, and thus beautiful. Before these dreams, she had never imagined such monstrous beauty could exist.

Homura planted a kiss on Madoka's breast, running her tongue over the nipple, and her hands trailed downward, toward the hem of Madoka's skirt. Her fingers were quick in unzipping the skirt and pulling it and Madoka's underwear past her hips, but as Homura removed them from Madoka's legs, she made certain not to disturb Madoka's white thigh-high stockings. Homura never removed them during their shared dreams, and somehow that made Madoka feel even more exposed.

But she'd expose her own beating heart to Homura if she could.

"You have such pretty, soft skin," Homura said, cupping what little of Madoka's thighs were exposed and squeezing the flesh. Despite the gloves Madoka could still feel Homura's fingernails, and they left red marks on her skin. "And I can see how aroused you are now."

Madoka's body shivered and her wrists struggled against the ribbons; Homura's fingers were so close, and even Madoka could feel how moist she had grown. Homura slid her hand between Madoka's thighs, and the fabric of those gloves teased her small patch of hair, and Madoka couldn't help but moan.

She felt dizzy and overwhelmed. The whole world was spinning all around her, and her chest ached. Her body was on fire, and whenever Homura touched or kissed her, her skin burned. She pressed herself more against Homura's teasing hand, begging for release. She tried to gulp, but the ribbon around her throat was still tight. "H-Homura-chan, p-please…" she pleaded, her voice strained.

Homura chuckled darkly, but her eyes seemed strangely moist. "Of course," she said as she slid a finger into Madoka. "What you ask for, I'll give to you."

Madoka couldn't think straight. She grew tight and wet around Homura's fingers, and the strange cloth of Homura's gloves only made her desperate for more. The rhythm of Homura's fingers were rough and almost violent, but Madoka didn't care. She wanted more; more pleasure, more air - whatever Homura wanted to give to her. Her body tensed and coiled like a spring about to burst, and even if this was just a dream, no other pleasure could compare to what Homura gave her now. Maybe if she never awoke, she would no longer have to fear losing Homura to despair ever again.

Homura's fingers were oddly gentle yet certain, and her other hand teased Madoka's nipples as she kissed Madoka over and over. She kissed Madoka's cheek, throat, shoulder, wherever her lips could reach, and her fingers dug into the soft flesh of her breast, almost painfully so while her other fingers teased Madoka's sex. That fire inside Madoka burned even greater, and the more pleasure coiled deep within her, the more she wanted to break free and scream.

As Homura kissed her throat, brushing her lips against the ribbons around Madoka's neck, something wet fell onto Madoka's skin, and those small droplets were oddly cool. Homura's shoulders quivered, but her fingers didn't hesitate, stroking Madoka with surprising force. Soon her lips found Madoka's again, and her kisses grew rougher and more forceful, leaving Madoka's lips raw and almost bleeding. Yet Madoka invited each kiss without hesitation, and she tried to let her own kisses linger, to savor the taste of Homura's eager lips as her own cheeks grew moist. Despite their force, Homura's own lips were soft and sweet, and Madoka couldn't get enough of them.

She was so close now, and as her body arched and squirmed beneath Homura's, she felt more cold droplets like tears falling onto her skin, mingling with her warm sweat, and when she finally climaxed, right before gold crossed her vision, she caught a glimpse of Homura crying.

When her body calmed, the ribbons around her wrists and throat suddenly loosened, and air filled her aching lungs. But her heartbeat had yet to calm, and she cupped Homura's face with her freed hands, and as she lifted Homura's gaze, she saw that tears still fell from those red eyes. "Homura-chan, why…?" she found herself saying.

Homura folded her wings closer to her back, and a broken smile came upon her lips. "We can be together like this, and I'm happy, I really am, but when we wake…"

Madoka pressed her lips against Homura's cheek, catching tears on her tongue. She remembered she had once wished to save Homura from falling into despair, and as she was now, this was all she could do. "I won't forget you, Homura-chan, I promise."

"Madoka… Madoka…" Homura sobbed as she collapsed against Madoka's chest. "I created this whole world just for you! I'll give you whatever you want, so please… please stay with me forever…"

Again Madoka saw a flash of gold, and also a glimpse of translucent pink wings, and she put her arms around Homura's back, tracing her fingers over the skin, where the wings pierced the flesh. This dream would end soon, she knew, but until then she didn't mind sharing this glass cage with her devil.


End file.
